


somethings just makes sense (you and I)

by tmrs



Series: nice to meet you (I'm your other half) [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmrs/pseuds/tmrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the following story contains a) planes that don't really fly, b) mentions of trash movies from the 80's and c) demoralization of classic paintings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somethings just makes sense (you and I)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> It's important to make clear that the credits to all the painting captions on part 3 go to [Art History Snap](http://arthistorysnap.tumblr.com/) \- I'm not that creative.  
> I also want to say that I had posted this serious months ago and deleted, I'm posting again bc why not?  
> Occasional misspelling mistakes are all mine.  
> Thanks for reading ^.^

1.

Finally finding out what was wrong on that damn electronic circuit, Mario let out an excited sound that is muffed by the giant bite he had just gave on an individually packaged gingerbread – with almonds, marzipan, fresh orange and lemon peel covered with milk chocolate – dropping some pieces of the filling all over it. Muttering “shifhmt” only make more of it join the mess before he hurries to eat the rest and blow the crumbs away. Fixing the last piece with caution to not screw everything up, he takes notes on the exercise book filled with mathematical sums and physic equations, repeating out loud as writing it down.

“Two golden lines on the resistor mean the first of them count. Yellow is a four, then gold is a comma and violet are a seven. That makes a 4, 7 ohms resistor to lower the pressure and make the transistors work on the cir-“

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and before he could tell the person to enter, the visitor untamed brown hair was already dancing on the air coming from the old fan since Thomas already had the whole upper body inside the small room.

“What is it now?”

“Mesut is asking for an ohmmeter, do you have a spare one?”

“Uhm,” – Mario uses the index finger to put the reading glasses back in place while opening one of his drawers – “I think I have one here.”

“I would ask Toni, but he’s too focused with the multimeter.”

“What happened with the digital?”

“Your dad said he needs to sort the analog one out or will be sending back to the first semester.”

Mario laughs briefly, aware of his dad promises as a teacher and tries another drawer hearing Thomas snapping the fingers walking around the room. “Are you still testing the series?”

“Making associations, you know how it is…” – His voice changes slightly and turning around Mario sees him almost kissing the fan to speak directly into it – “Different values, same shit… Hey, we should get this on a t-shirt.”

“Damn, I don’t know where it is.”

“Don’t look at me like that I’m not telling him, you’ll do it.”

Giving up of the puppy face Mario let the glasses on the table and scratches the eyes before following his co-worker around the huge industry where they stayed half period, hearing him talk excitedly about the fact horses can’t puke. Who would thought... Thomas would. He's trying to spin a pen between the fingers, but the object end up flying across the hallway and hits Holger straight in the face making the three of them freeze in place. Mario can see Holger’s clutching the jaw and Thomas probably does too because he gives a nervous laugh.

“Hey Holgi, sorry for that, let me just…” - Thomas licks the thumb and rubs the pad on his skin to wipe the blue trace of the others cheek - “See? It’s all good”

The tall man groans like a dinosaur, turns to tap Mario’s shoulder instead of scold him. “Your father wants you in his office and you Thomas” - Holger speaks between his teeth - “Are going to help me with on the airframe section today”

The browned hair boy struggle to find an excuse in vain. He mouth a “kill me” when passes thought Mario before leaving him to cross the big room with giant metal birds alone.

His dad speech wasn’t too long so Mario’s soon on the way back to his precious gingerbread, but before he can reach the staircase again his eyes get caught on a guy wandering with curious eyes that's probably a lost sheep from the group of other students visiting the programming room. A very nosy one to be honest. He's touching and inspecting everything he can reach. It doesn't take more than three minutes for something on the big open panel pop under his fingertip making him curse, the light bulbs shutting down in sequence like a sequence of dominoes as he talks to himself.

“Oh fuck it’s spreading already! The electricity will reach my heart anytime now and I’ll die here… Oh my poor arm”

Leaning against the handrail Mario holds a laugh watching him flex the fingers, grumbling. “You know, the green light over there was made to show that the thing is on.”

“I-I was distracted,” – he looks around until find Mario and smiles only half apologuetic – “Sorry.”

“Are you ok?”

“Sure! It was nothing… Uhm, those are the news electrolytic capacitors?”

“It is actually.”

“It’s true that they expand instead of blowing?”

“In most of the cases it pretty much works like that, yeah. So…” - Mario makes his way downstairs and bites a chuckle when catches the other pinching the dead arm - “You’re into Avionics too?”

“One more semester and hopefully I’ll be flying on these things…” - he puts the hand on the jeans pocket the most casually way possible – “You work here?”

“University internship, second semester though.”

“Haven’t you ever thought about guiding those things above the clouds?”

Mario answers him with a shrug, taking the final steps closer so they can see each other properly under the mercury yellowish lamps.

“If we’d be completely honest the ones in the towers are the ones doing it, you pilots just have a privileged view,” – The boy punches him slightly on the arm, giggling – “I’m kidding. I’d thought about floating on air, yes… Have you ever thought about helping people leave the ground?”

“Sure, but then I had Technical Knowledge of Commercial Airplane/Helicopter and gave up. Plus I’ll get to use the suits and look smoking hot with the cap.”

“I see...” Mario laughs but doesn’t get punched again, instead the other crooks a smile looking pleased. “I’m Mario.”

“Marco.”

Their hands meet halfway on a firm squeeze for a brief shake before dropping apart again. Mario only realizes that there’s nothing to be smiling anymore and things were probably getting awkward when a noise of something metallic hitting the floor echoing on the walls wake him up.

“So,” Marco scratches the face, fixing the backpack strap on his shoulder. “Can you give me a tour?”

“Ahm, yeah… Better keep you away from the real explosive things or you can end up with more than just your arm dead”

“My hero” Mario nudges his shoulder for his tone but end up smiling, leading the way to the first visitation spot.

It starts on the control unit, passes on the mechanic room where they get on a good discussion about decoders and agreed about the coils before move on to the communication section. At some point Marco stops to take notes looking too excited with all that happening around him and Mario find it’s hard not to stare at him, slowly realizes it wasn’t just because of the weird hair.

“Look, usually the visitations don’t end on the simulator because there’s never enough time, but since you almost died on our facilities earlier…”

“No way!” his mouth falls open after peeking through the door Mario holds open, his face lights up when he sees the simulator of the new Boeing 777-200LR.

At the big room Marco excitement it’s so huge he simply drops the backpack on the floor and hurries to the cockpit. Mario joins him on the co-pilot seat, watching how he’s amazed with all the lights and controllers turning on under his command and can’t stop himself of feeling energized too when the engine make the machine shake under their feet as the fake piece of airplane slowly starts to leave the ground.

“Next stop: the stars” Marco says and Mario don't know why his stomach feels so funny.

Next morning Mario kicks Thomas and Toni out of his working space trying the best to ignore their teasing and whistles before locking the door behind them. He finally drops the body on his rolling chair, smiling from ear to ear to the box full of pretzels that waited for him. Attached to the lid there’s a single piece of notebook paper folded in the form of a small airplane with eleven numbers scribbled on a messy handwriting.

 

2.

It starts when Marco opens his eyes in the morning; the bubbling sensation of excitement in his chest that kept the boy restless on the chair during all breakfast that dear mom insisted they all should have together. It didn’t go away while he killed time playing video game and texted his friend Robin because Marcel was too busy planning the next house party at his place when Mr. and Mrs. Fornell leave for a business trip in a few days – actually Marco favorite hobby in moments like that was pissing off Meli and Yvo, but he didn’t want to risk being grounded for giving his older sisters hell, not that day. It got a little worst when the clock hand crossed the number twelve and after the bath Marco opened his wooden wardrobe already in a dark jeans trouser to find the black and yellow jersey of the club who own his heart hanging there.

Joining the huge sea of fans only made it feel spread until reach the fingertips like electricity as they joined the crowd marching to Signal Iduna Park and the fact he was now eighteen means nothing because it felt just like the very first time ten years before. There was different groups as long as his vision could reach and many different types of people, whole families and little kids in yellow holding mini-Emma’s against the chest, grannies buying binoculars to combo with their glasses, teenager friends already drinking and singing the club chants. Fifteen minutes later he finally seats at his dad side on places with good view from the pitch with a bucket of chips in hand, unwinding the scarf around the neck to leave it hanging while watching the stadium being slowly filled.

:::

If those damn bratwurst hoagies didn’t look so delicious Mario would probably already be on his seat and not in the middle of that huge line, but he was just a high school boy on a weekend match of the team who won his heart since the family had to leave Ronsberg to a whole new life in Dortmund after two Chemistry projects surprisingly completed a day before – c’mon, he deserved at least that. Fabian was looking pissed since Mario had begged him for stopping at the booth, but when there were just two people in front of him he looked over the shoulder to check and saw him chatting with a skinny blond haired girl.

Wasn’t a surprise they lost all the players warming up and definitely not the fact his older brother managed to convince the poor girl to give him her number before she turn right and they turn left to find their seats. There was some real funny people on that section, he remembered an episode of Simpsons after passing by an old guy wearing a cap full of pins and was stopped by a young boy asking him to take a photo of his whole family before continuing. Mario checked the ticket twice before his eyes met the green ones of the boy wearing a last season jersey which had the seat next to him, exchanging a small casual smile before finally settling down.

:::

After rewrite the message for the fifth time with the right amount of curses and kindness Marco hit the send button feeling relief for telling again what amazing friend Mats was for agreed to let him copy their Physics homework he had forgot was due for Monday. The younger brown haired boy next to him was complaining with a guy who seemed to be his brother about the food while getting rid of the black jacket to reveal the number 17 jersey that belonged to the Brazilian wing-back Dedé underneath. That makes him raise the eyebrows on a silent approval.

:::

The whole black and yellow crowd followed the Südtribüne and started to sing all the most famous chants at the top of their lungs like all those people were warming up too, raising against the Bayer Leverkusen supporters all at once. Mario got easily carried away by the energy watching carefully all the sea of generations beautifully pouring theirs hearts out before the game even start and noticing on of the most passionate ones was indeed seated right next to him, the voice slightly above the others and the head shaking in some rhythm, hands clapping with perfect timing. Five minutes later when the singing became just loud noisy conversations Mario was finishing his soda while saw with the corner of the eyes the older somewhat blond boy pull the arms off the coat he was wearing and with the most discreet look that he could give, found out it was Rosický 10 that was written on his back.

:::

Turning to talk something with his dad, Marco tried to ignore the smile he saw at the others face as much he tries to ignore his own. He is about to lie about the homework when people start cheering again indicating was time for the game to begin and so it does when the referee look at his stopwatch and blow his whistle. Things go pretty well on the first 30 minutes with the Dortmund players getting a few shots on goal coming close to scoring, but hitting the bar for inches. In the 38st minute Leverkusen get an opportunity after a weak pass from Meltzelder fail to reach Kruska’s feet ending up with Sergej Barbarez who hadn’t to think twice before sending it to the back of Weinderfelers net causing an explosion of cheers from the red crowd and a wave of rage in the yellow one.

:::

Marco was one of the really pissed persons. He simply threw the empty soda can on the floor growling at least five curses in a space of 3 seconds making Mario look at him with raised eyebrows, but turning back to face the field quickly before he notices something. Due to a small argument between players on the field the digital plaque shows +3 minutes of additional time that seem to take forever as they boost for a counterattack and the passing improves just enough for Kehl get rid of two defenders with class – that’s when Marco climbs in his seat holding the scarf for dear life.

“Go on Kehl, don’t fuck this up!”

Mario looks around questioning how people haven’t kicked his butt yet to realize everybody is in a similar situation. Everybody too tense to care about anything besides the running clock and that dancing ball. Everybody but him, he still looks at the blond boy.

“Pass to Tyrala, go on!”

Fabian swears when the ball returns to the defense, rubbing the hands together of excitement and Mario focus on the game again while the brains sees the possibilities of at least three good shoots. He looks at the clock, it shows 45:40.

When Mario speaks again he hears an echo.

“Do a fucking wall pass.”

They exchange a quickly look before getting back the attentions to the field where somehow the players manage to do double wall pass getting rid of three guys and Tinga proceed with the ball on foot as Valdez and Frei run for a better position. There’s a guy not much older than both of them on the line beneath and he keeps shaking the head from side to side, putting the hands shaped as shells around the lips to expand the sound of his voice.

“Cross to Valdez!”

“Are you crazy?” – Marco says to the back of the guy’s head.

“Kringer is a much better position” – Mario get on his tiptoe to see above a lady with a big yellow hat.

“He doesn’t even have a good angle for a right foot” – The guy respond looking slightly over the shoulder with frowned eyebrows – “Shut up, stupid brat.”

Before Mario can say anything in his defense he is cut by the one on his side.

“Kringer can play with both feet, in different positions on midfield and as a right defender so you may check the facts before open this big shit mouth of yours” – the boy doesn’t look at Mario, but there is grin on his thin lips and he can swear their bodies had moved in closer at some point as he shake the head in disbelief. His bony elbow hits Mario's rib when the game is back on focus, the clock showing 47:14 – “Can you believe these fucking posers? You’re right, Gordon just need to...”

“Send it back to Kehl, and then he can...”

“...Through pass to Frei from out the penalty area, oh shit...”

“...He’s not going to make it.”

Frei indeed doesn’t make the goal. The ball hits the goalie hands and slips at his hold to roll back on the field saying the game was still on with the very last chance of goal before halftime even if the clocks already glows 48:06. Marco is so anxious he needs to hold something and so he do. Mario doesn’t notice at first, just when Kringer shoots the rebound – with the left foot for everybody information – and misses for a few inches the pressure on his arm is suddenly gone, that’s when he realizes the boy was clung into it.

But then the referee blew the whistle and he sunk on the seat, Fabian is already lost in thoughts texting someone – probably the girl from early. Mario take a seat again, not sure of what to say or how to indicate a conversation, but doing it anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry” – he shrugged and extended the left hand – “I’m Marco.”

“Mario” – their hands met and part, but the smile remains – “How much do you miss Rosický right now?”

“Ugh, too much” – Marco drop the head behind rolling the eyes for a second before laugh about it – “This wouldn’t be happening, damn you Gunners for taking him away.”

“We’ll have trouble finding some as fast and smart.”

“And audacious. He sewed the defense.”

“Yeah, it’s the first game I’m watching since he left.”

“It’s my third and I’m still not used, feels like a bad remake of creepshow.”

“Creepshow is awesome man… From all trash movies my favorite has to be The Blob.”

Marco turned around to face him properly and they could finally see each other completely face to face for the first time.

“58 or 85?”

“85, but the narration and sound effects of 58 are the best.”

“Yes! The 'like a pouring star from outta space' BOOM” – Marco gesticulate and laughs clearly excited.

“'The old man finds it, touches and these are the shocking results' TARAM” – Mario chuckles shaking the head.

“I’m pretty sure the 58's Blob it’s made of strawberry jelly…”

“Totally! There’s nothing like old trash movies.”

“Yeah, the 85 it’s my favorite too and I completely agree.” – Marco smiles suddenly seeming interested in Mario’s knees instead of his face – “That car scene though...”

“When Scott gropes the girl's breast and The Blob attacks him? Is awesome.”

“Boobs are extremely dangerous things.”

“Makes you rethink your life choices.”

“Yeah, it sure does.”

There are a lot of things to be talked about, but there’s no enough time because the teams are back on the pitch and everybody started screaming again so suddenly they can’t hear much other than people talking and laughing. Marco’s knee is pressed against his since they are now relaxed in the seats and Mario takes the sensation on his stomach as a crazy surprisingly desire from the smell that come from vendors selling garlic fries.

:::

The game starts again and Marco feel a wave of hope as the substitutions seem to be giving positive results, finding spaces to work the ball and creating plays every now and then. He continues commenting the passes with Mario – the guy in front don’t say another word.

When the clock marks 62:01 Castro fouls Kuba and the referee gives Dortmund a great chance in the form of a free kick making pretty much every person wearing yellow stand up of excitement. With a quickly look at Marco from the corner of his eye, Mario see him chewing the lips nervously and notice he is biting the insides of the mouth too, Fabian has the hands on the head and everybody around seems to be holding their breaths. Kuba kicks and the ball reach Tyrala chest before falling on his foot for being passed to Kehl who wrap the play with a strong shoot that hits the back of the net on a glorious moment.

That’s when the feeling that Marco has been building up since the morning comebacks to explode against his ribcage making him scream and jump in Mario’s arms., which is not a problem since Mario is giving a laugh as warm as the sun with the arms around his thin waist to pull his feet out the ground briefly.

“YEAH JUNG!” – he pushes the other away to squeeze his chubby cheeks in the palms of his hands – “Oh my god I’m so happy I could kiss you right now!”

:::

Mario felt the ears getting hotter and prays Fabian was too busy celebrating with a stranger to hear that. For a minute he get worried if Marco was serious, then he’s not worried but kind of hopeful, the minute after that it doesn’t matter because Marco let go of his cheeks. He keeps an arm around his neck as they watch the beautiful waving flags, resting the head against his while singing the goal song. Things end up changing 7 minutes later when during a corner a red player kick into the box making it easy for Stenman to rise up and head it into the net making it 2-1 for Leverkusen and that’s how the game end.

“Unbelievable. This fucking useless dickheads.”

Snorting and frowning Marco slides the arms inside his jacket again while Mario picks up the mess he had made in silence. Fabian is already at the end of the line to get on the big group of people ready to leave when Mario sees Marco is taking a little bit longer than necessary with the sleeves and takes that as encouragement, maybe that’s a sign he wasn’t that boring after all.

:::

“Hey Marco!”

“Yes?”

“Have you seen Creepshow III?”

Marco half smile appears again while he shakes the head, wrapping the scarf in his neck. “Not yet, why?”

“I have saved on a DVD, I can lend you if you want...”

“It’s scarier than The Raft from the II?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Uhm… I may need company.”

“Deal.”

Taking the chance he types his number on Marco’s phone – carefully covering it with his body so Fabian won’t see it from where he stands – and they bump the fists together before he messes Mario’s brown locks, leaving with a smile and the feeling not everything had being a lost that day.

 

3.

Choosing Arts as a complementary subject for the final project of the college semester sounded like a great idea since he knew his family would be visiting Italy during the break, but thinking back while scratching the whole paragraph about The Conquest of Constantinople painted by someone which Marco couldn’t even spell, seemed boring to say at least.

He run the hands thought the hair letting the air escape the lungs at once after checking the time realizing his notes haven’t even reached one page in one hour of tour. Placing the pencil behind the left ear to close the research book, the Italian dictionary and his notebook the boy decided the best to do was take a walk. There were a group of elderly in one of the rooms and Marco wished he could understand a single word in Italian so maybe it would inspire him to write something decent on the essay, but no, was useless, all he could say was “mamma mia”, “vaffanculo”, “pompino” and “più salsa per favore” which wouldn’t make a good sentence on that ambient surrounded by grannies.

Leaving one of the galleries with too many people Marco found a better one and almost kisses the old woman wearing a tag saying “istruttore Fiorenza” foots after hearing she talk English with a heavy Italian accent, still way better than nothing. She was with a group of school kids who looked bored as hell, which was expected. Who want to be in a Museum when the sun is shining bright in Naples? Nobody. There was another guy like him there. Juvenile features, but way too older for being part of the group and yet clearly more interested in what was being said.

“This is a Giovanni Bellini painted in 1480 c. in oil and wooden panels, it’s called The Transfiguration and it tell us about the moment in which Jesus reveals his divine nature to his disciples. Can you say their reactions by their faces?”

“Jesus looks bored as hell…” - the guy says before realizing the mistake. - “Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean like...”

Marco is the only one laughing until all the attention turn to him. Raising the palm of the left hand in apologies, he bites the bottom lip to keep another laugh from coming out as Fiorenza fix her silk blouse and continues talking. When his eyes met the boy with brown hair meters away from him they exchange a smile silently. As the kids continue being guided by the old lady they are left behind alone. The other is the first to speak, still looking at the painting.

“It would be so much better if had a 'surprise!' caption...”

“The guy down there just didn’t get yet 'What, you what?'”

“'But you said Joseph was you dad'”

“Then Jesus goes 'God, I give up, you’re all so boring'”

After a new round of laughs were over, the guy with gentle hazel eyes and a big smile who pushed his cheeks apart making them look exactly like the type aunts love to squeeze during holidays, reached out the hand towards him.

“Mario.”

“Marco” – Their hands met and part again – “You're funny.”

“Don't think the others agrees so much...”

“You surely aren’t an art student right?”

“No! What a disaster it would be,” – he laughed again passing the hand thought the short hair – “I study gastronomy but when you’re in Naple you have to visit some places right, or it’s not a real trip?”

“I think so. Still have to see the Underwater Park Giola or something like that though, they said is amazing.”

“Gaiola” – Mario said on a better pronunciation Marco could have – “I have tickets for tomorrow, it seem really cool. But ahm, are you an art student?” – he pointed to the books he was holding.

“No, I study history actually. I have this shitty project which involves art but it’s so boring I’m almost jumping out the window. Not knowing Italian doesn’t help.”

“I know a little bit and don’t have anything to do for a couple of hours, do you want company?”

Mario gets cooler and cooler each gallery between whispers about table tennis, pop music, fast cars and well, boring paints. They end up meeting Fiorenza again, this time explaining about the meaning behind Convito di Baldassarre from Mattia Preti when Marco had some kind of brainstorm and would have spent all the creativity rush looking for the damn pencil if his new friend haven’t take it off from the place it still were, tucked behind his left ear half stuck between locks of light golden hair. Was the end of the tour for the kids and they all went towards the exit followed by the old lady and Mario waited penitently while another group came and Marco continued to write his messy handwriting under his watch.

When he was over they moved with the group to another room who was watching the Samson and Delilah by Rubens and Mario lips touched Marco’s ear to whisper the caption he thought fit the image the most, in this case was: “quick, draw a dick on his forehead”.

Marco did the same in front of In a Roman Osteria by Carl Bloch one: “that isn't my idea of a threesome Evelyn”.

Mario spot The Vision of St. Bruno by Sebastiano Ricci and Marco starts to laugh when Mario isn't even close yet: “I saw you leaving that strip club”.

The lasts ones in the room is Tristan and Isolde, one of them shows the guy playing harp to the girl at his feet painted by Wilhelm Peters. Mario whispers in a bad imitation of a girl voice: “anything but Wonderwall again Tris”. Marco answers hoarsely: “Jeez, fine woman that’s Drop Like it Hot”. It goes on until someone gives them an ugly look and Mario stops snapping the tongue in the rhythm of the song.

They only got gently kicked of the gallery after stopping in front of George Knowles painting and Marco confided his version of the dialogue whispering: “please just one time in the butt Barbara” which caused an intense fit of loud laughter on Mario which easily spread to Marco and didn’t ceased before the boys found themselves in the main corridor.

There's still occasional chuckles while the two of them are sit in the grass outside as Marco put the books inside the backpack and Mario translates a flayer who talked about the next day programming and events.

“Omaggio a Capodimonte: da Caravaggio a Picasso” – Marco was frowning and he stretched the arm to take the pencil off the place behind his ear again causing the blond to laugh – “It’s a tribute to twenty guys.”

“We should come to tell them the real story behind it. It was fun.”

“Yeah, too bad I’ve plans...” – Mario is playing with the pencil when looks away for a second before staring at the other again – “Why don’t you go to Gaiola tomorrow? I’m sure there are still tickets.”

“I can try.”

“Cool, I’ll write my phone here and you can text me when you got them or even if you not…” – he writes on the flayer and Marco feel embarrassed of letting him see his handwriting because was a fucking mess compared to his – “You know what? What are your plans now?”

“I didn’t make any since I couldn’t imagine how many hours I was going to spend here.”

“Nice, because I’m going to a Pasticceria to a… how can I say, uhm, practical research about Neapolitan desserts and I promise those things taste like heaven.” – he looked so excited Marco stared at him still holding the strap of the backpack – “You have to try Delizia al Limone it’s my favorite and I think you’ll love it.”

“Ok, but I have to know something first...”

“What?”

“Don’t ruin the moment and tell me you are a Schalke supporter, please.”

The boy pressed the lips together in a thin line for a ten seconds and shook the head in denial. “I’m not a Schalke supporter.”

“Yes!” - Marco raises the hands to the sky and let the body fall behind so his back hit the grass being lulled by the sound of Mario's warm laugh that already sound strangely familiar.

 


End file.
